


Broken Into a Million Pieces

by fuzipenguin



Series: Explosive Bursts [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Other, Revenge, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 18:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11811393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Megatron does his best to kill off Sideswipe.





	1. Chapter 1

           He was there when Ratchet pulled Sideswipe out of medical stasis. Not right next to the berth, because that was Sunstreaker’s rightful spot. But behind him and to the side, in perfect view of Sideswipe’s face. Wheeljack watched the light bloom in Sideswipe’s optics, the way the protective shutters slowly blinked several times before his gaze wandered around.

            “Sideswipe? How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked guardedly. Sunstreaker was tense enough to actually be vibrating.

            Sideswipe turned his head slightly, staring at Ratchet for a long moment before his optics lost focus in favor of staring at the ceiling

            “Sides?” Sunstreaker tentatively asked. “You with me?”

            The red mech turned his head as if it was a great effort. His forehelm creased as he looked at Sunstreaker. After a long, tense moment, the creases evened out and his lips moved in the smallest of smiles. Sunstreaker slumped in place as if he were a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

             Feeling a modicum of hope, Wheeljack shifted behind Sunstreaker. Sideswipe’s attention turned to him at the movement. Wheeljack slowly flashed his helm fins in greeting, but Sideswipe’s stare continued on past him, landing on the opposite wall.

            Wheeljack’s spark contracted in on itself, sending a bolt of pain through him.

            “He’s barely responding to me,” Sunstreaker whispered, reaching out a hand to lay it on Sideswipe’s forearm. “It’s like we’re separated by whole galaxies, not just a few feet.”

            The frontliner’s tone was tortured and Wheeljack placed his own hand on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, squeezing it in as comforting a manner as possible. But it was hard to be reassuring; it felt as if something was breaking inside him.

            “It may take some time,” Ratchet replied, checking all the monitors surrounding Sideswipe. “Or this may be as good as it gets. Sideswipe shouldn’t even be alive; Megatron was one shot away from a complete triple tap. You knew it was a long shot.”

            Ratchet sounded angry, and his movements were jerky. He wouldn’t meet either of their optics and Wheeljack knew the medic was taking this almost as hard as they were. Sideswipe was the annoying little brother Ratchet had never had and it probably killing him that he couldn’t fix the frontliner. He was angry at himself, not Sunstreaker or Wheeljack

            “You’ve worked miracles, Ratch,” Wheeljack whispered hoarsely, looking at his best friend gratefully when their gazes finally met.

            “I’m sorry. Thank you, Ratchet,” Sunstreaker murmured, not taking his optics off his twin. “I’m grateful, I can’t even say how much. I just… is there anything I can do?”

            Ratchet sighed heavily, hugging his data pad to his chest. “Be with him. I’ve cleared you of duty indefinitely. Talk to him, do whatever it is you do with your bond. He's got a new t-cog and the rest of his frame will heal from the superficial damage over time. There may be one or two more things I can do with his processor, but the spark damage is out of my hands. That disconnect you’re feeling is probably something only the two of you can overcome.”

            “Ratch? What about me?” Wheeljack asked, already fearing the answer.

            “Your relationship with the twins is pretty new, Jackie,” Ratchet replied softly. “I’m not sure if you’re going to get much of a response from him. I think you should still try though. But I don’t want to confuse him; I’m going to limit his visitors to the medical staff, the two of you, and Optimus. The Matrix is a very old and powerful artifact. Maybe it will help establish a connection or guide Sideswipe back. I don’t know. I’m willing to try a rain dance at this point,” he said, shaking his head and pinching his nasal ridge.

            Wheeljack ducked his head and stared at the floor for a long moment. Then he sucked in a large vent of air and raised his helm determinedly.

            “I’ll play the pipes for you. But in the meantime, I’m gonna grab some cubes from the rec room. Sunny? I’ll be right back, ok?” Wheeljack said quietly, bending and speaking into Sunstreaker’s audial.

            “Mm,” Sunstreaker murmured absently, still staring fixedly at Sideswipe’s vacant expression. Wheeljack could practically feel the golden twin drawing away, inward to his bond with his twin. It might help Sideswipe, so Wheeljack was all for it, yet he still felt very, very alone.

            “I’ll keep an optic on them both,” Ratchet said, startling Wheeljack with a light touch on his elbow. When had his friend even moved around the end of the berth?

            “I couldn’t leave them in better hands,” Wheeljack replied, glad his blast mask was in place. He just couldn’t muster up a smile, no matter how hard he tried. “Thank you again, Ratch.”

            He broke away, striding towards the isolation room’s exit and out through the rest of the ward, not even looking at any of the others present. All he could do was place one pede in front of the other, his last glimpse of the twins haunting his processor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack goes to Jazz for help with revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moral of this story is that Wheeljack will fuck you up if you hurt those he loves.

              “Hey, ‘Jack, got your message. What’s up, my mech?” 

              Wheeljack looked up and Jazz nearly took a step back at the look on the normally cheerful engineer’s face. Part rage, part agony, and all determination. 

              “Jazz…” 

              The third in command snagged a rickety looking stool and drew it over, sitting down and putting a hand on Wheeljack’s knee. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

              “I need your help,” Wheeljack stated. 

              “Yeah, mech, absolutely. What do ya need me to do?”

              “The next battle… I need you to get me close to Megatron. Close enough to give him a present…” he said, his hand shifting on the work bench. Jazz glanced over to see an innocuous disc of metal lying next to the engineer’s fingers. Dull gray, slender, and barely the size of Wheeljack’s palm, the object looked innocent enough. At first glance. 

              Jazz stared harder at it, at the drips of solder surrounding it, the beaker of mysterious looking fluid next to it, and the array of tools across Wheeljack’s work table. The engineer’s energy field was heavily masked, but this close, Jazz could feel the heavy throb of grief contained within. 

             And it all clicked. 

             He looked up, staring at Wheeljack in a new light. “How’s Sideswipe?” 

             Wheeljack ducked his head, the lights in his helm indicators blinking out, a sure sign of stress for the mech. “He barely even recognizes Sunny. And Ratch thinks that it’s only because of their bond. Sunny is…” Wheeljack trailed off, looking up at Jazz with haunted optics. 

             “I’m losing them both, Jazz. This has to stop. I just want it all to stop. Will you help me?”

             Jazz had seen a lot of despair during his time in the war. He’d supported Optimus every step of the way, abided by Optimus’ decision against assassination missions onto the Nemesis. But the look in Wheeljack’s optics made Jazz waver. 

             Because he wanted it to stop too. He was tired of seeing his friends like this, of experiencing that agony of loss himself. Sideswipe was alive by a miracle of Primus and Ratchet’s quick thinking. But would Sideswipe ever be himself again after both his spark and processor had nearly been obliterated? 

            “I’ll take full responsibility,” Wheeljack whispered, leaning forward earnestly. “If I die, I don’t care. I already lost everything.”

            “Don’t say that, Jack. You have a whole crew of friends here. Besides - who will wrangle Ratchet?” Jazz rushed to say, squeezing Wheeljack’s knee. The engineer’s state of mind had to be pretty bad for Wheeljack to forget about his best friend.

            Wheeljack ducked his head again, covering his optics. “I don’t know what else to do.”

            Jazz reached out his other hand and lifted Wheeljack’s helm, meeting the engineer's gaze. “Tell me what your little gizmo does. You don’t have to die for this to work. Sideswipe is pretty stubborn, after all. You never know with those two.”

            Wheeljack made an agonized little whimper and then nodded. “Ok. Yeah, ok.” he cleared his intake and visibly gathered himself.

            “It’s meant to stick to plating. It deploys hooks into armor, so it can only be cut off. And then there’s this little bit here…” Wheeljack said, lifting it up and showing Jazz the underside of the weapon. 

             A surprisingly long prong shot out, supported by a thick cylinder. “It will inject the strongest acid I have into a mech’s frame. I want to put it directly over Megatron’s spark. And then I’m going to stand there and watch it burn through that evil core, micrometer by micrometer,” Wheeljack savagely added, helm fins practically black. 

             Jazz blinked at the other mech and whistled lowly, impressed. “Damn, ‘Jack. I didn’t even think you _could_  be vicious.”

             “You’d be surprised,” Wheeljack muttered, tossing the weapon back onto the table. “I’ve made fifty of them,” he elaborated, shuddering. “I’ve done what I always swore I would never do.”

             He lifted his hands up and Jazz saw how much they shook. Jazz reached out and took hold of them, squeezing hard. 

             “And you’ll never have to again. I promise,” Jazz swore, remembering all the weapons Wheeljack had produced in the past. Wheeljack wasn’t exactly a pacifist, but he had always preferred to create things which incapacitated the enemy rather than outright kill them.

             And all that had changed, because a pair of frontliners had stolen Wheeljack’s spark.  


End file.
